HANNAH (Silicon Valley Billionaires 3)

I fidgeted on my way into Paragon, the groundbreaking Silicon Valley biotechnology company my sister had started years ago. I kept expecting Fiona to call, but she didn’t.

To stay occupied, I texted Marcus, the nurse I’d hired—just to check in on Wes. I texted him again when I got to my desk. I texted him ten minutes later to remind him that Wes liked the special electrolyte-enriched bottled water in the fridge. Then I texted him again to make sure he’d received my text.

Finally, Wes himself texted me: Chill out and please stop driving Marcus crazy.

Fine, I texted back, but make sure he gets you the right water, and don’t forget the sandwich I made you is in the fridge!

I felt guilty for leaving him, but the feeling was nothing new. Guilt had been my BFF for the past few weeks. What had happened was my fault—Li

Na Zhao, the Chinese corporate terrorist extraordinaire, was after me and my sister, Lauren, CEO of Paragon. Wes had been shot protecting me. The night Li Na’s men ambushed us in my kitchen, I’d been distracting him, flirting and making a joke. We weren’t paying attention. They shot the guards outside my house first, and we never even heard them. That was on me. They shot Wes, and he almost died, and that was also on me. And although he’d been home from the hospital for five weeks and I hadn’t left his side, the guilt refused to leave me.

Sometimes I wondered if it ever would.

Still, it felt good to be back in my sunny, cheerful office. When I’d been held captive, I’d wondered if I’d ever sit at my desk again… I pushed the thought from my mind and plowed through our most recent sales data, checking my phone every three seconds.

Still no Fiona.

The good news was that I had plenty of work to distract me. The patch, Paragon’s hit technology, continued to surpass all sales projections. As director of publicity, I needed to share this news with the world, so I started drafting a long-overdue press release.

My phone buzzed, and I jumped, even though I’d been waiting for it.

“Hannah? It’s Fiona.”

“How are you?”

“Not good,” she said immediately. “And unfortunately, you’re going to understand why all too well.”

My stomach dropped. “Wh-what does that mean?”

“I’d rather not talk about it over the phone. Can I come up? Can I meet with you and Lauren right now?”

“You’re here?”

“I’m in the parking lot. I was hoping you could fit me in—it’s important.”

“Hold on. Let me text Lauren and see if she’s free.”

I put her on hold and fired off a quick text to Lauren, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Fiona worked sixteen-hour days and didn’t waste time—ever. Sitting in a parking lot hoping for a meeting was not her style.

I read the reply from Lauren and got back on the phone with Fiona. “We can see you, but it needs to be quick. Lauren’s due back in the lab in a half hour.”

“That’s fine. I’m coming in now.”

My sister jumped to her feet when I came in. “What does Fiona Pace want? I’m so busy today. There’s so much catching up to do—”

“I don’t know, but she sounded upset. And Fiona doesn’t do upset.”

“I don’t like it.” Lauren shook her head, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

I did, too, but I didn’t want to say it.

Stephanie, Lauren’s longtime assistant, buzzed her in. “Ms. Pace is here.”

“We’re ready for her.”

Fiona came through the doors wearing a violet sweater and a pencil skirt, her brown bob shining in the sun that streamed through the windows. She would’ve looked fabulous if her face hadn’t been so tense. “Lauren, Hannah, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fiona,” Lauren said. “It seems like Protocol Therapeutics is doing well—congratulations.”